Two Rivers Isle my guns

"yer funny," colt drawled back, spitting his usual cursory stream of birch juice. "keep that wit up fer scarin' the deer." there was a threat in boone's easy appeal, and that was as the days went on and they got to know one another, well, mayhaps the gang took a shine to the gentle holler giant.
not to colt, but rather his pride.
he snuffled at a track, looked for a second. "what're yer goals in the isle, boone," colt asked, the ragged-edge picture of a man who wanted to do a bit better these days.